


Is that you?

by stevetonyy



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Gaslighting, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 13:51:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19906759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stevetonyy/pseuds/stevetonyy
Summary: Quentin knows he is not enough to make Peter give up E.D.I.T.H. But he knows a few people who might.Or, Quentin constructs the people that matter the most to Peter in order to guilt him into thinking that he's not enough to save them and he should give the glasses to a more capable person.





	Is that you?

**Author's Note:**

> I just had this idea and I had to write and this is what came out. I'm not really satisfied with this so if for some reason anyone likes it let me know in the comments.

The first time Beck thinks about hurting Peter Parker is at the carefully constructed bar, after he absently asked him a question which sets him off into a rant, waving his muscled arms all around the place.

He's not surprised by it. People like Peter, people who make him feel powerful, always brought out the nagging urge to ruin. To hurt. Because he can. He knows he can transform the laughter to crying, knows he can make Peter's eyes shine with tears instead of glee. He knows he can please Peter as easily as he can hurt him.

And, oh, did Beck have many wonderful ways to hurt him. 

Beck didn't dislike Peter; far from it, really. He really liked this sweet kid, how could he not, when he looked up to Beck, to Mysterio, with such awed respect?

Beck hasn't felt like this in years and he doesn't want to let go now, not when he has it _so_ easy. It almost makes him sad to think of how he's going to lose him. Thinking about how he's getting the whole world instead makes him feel better.

Beck holds his head in his hand, elbow resting on the counter, appearing to be attentive. He listens to the kid's enthusiastic tirade on how he wants to have a normal vacation like a normal kid, and occasionally drops in the kind, wise advice, transforming into the man who was unable to save his family, the man who _understands_ Peter. Beck's words have calming effect on Peter, he can hear his sigh of relief. Beck could do so much more than that. He so desperately wanted to show him.

Beck offers Peter exactly what he wants and yet Peter refuses. He's not refusing Beck; he's refusing himself. Beck knows it's Stark, he's sure of it, because everything in Peter's life revolves around him. The matter at hand proved it. Even dead the bastard still managed to keep what rightfully belonged to him. As Beck looks around at his colleagues, all who went out of their asses to make this possible, the thought of Tony enrages him, makes his breathing loud and hard. 

Beck hadn't pulled all this shit, hadn't worn this stupid costume, hadn't played father or uncle or whatever helped Peter sleep at night for Peter to ruin it now. No.

He'd make Peter regret that.

Making Peter drink a couple of shots with him is surprisingly easy, considering how he freaked when Quentin first proposed they had a drink. The alcohol makes Peter loosen up; one certain body part is not in agreement with growing loose. Quentin can do something about that, too.

After that, it's even easier to make Peter accompany him on a midnight stroll, and they walk to the abandoned building Beck glamoured to look like a fancy, impeccable hotel. Peter is oblivious to it all as he makes easy conversation.

"Whoa," Peter says under his breath, wide-eyed, taking in the spotless walls, the squeaky-clean floors, "you have a very nice place, Mr. Beck." 

"You like it?" Beck asks, sliding the palm of his hand down a white wall, noticing the damp, musky smell. There's nothing he can do about smells, though. Just another reminder that he's not really powerful, not in the way Spider-Man is. With Edith, maybe he'd be able to change that.

"This was where my family was staying before the-" He turns to look at Peter, makes his lips twitch with emotion and notices how the boy's mouth has softly dropped open, "before the fire Elemental burned this place down with my family in it." He turns to the wall again, head dropped with grief and defeat. The part about the place being burnt down was true, at least.

Beck hears Peter's light steps as he slowly walks up to him and timidly places a hand on his shoulder. "Mr. Beck?" Peter says, voice small, "I know it's not much to say but you managed to beat him this time. I think I've already said this, uh, but I'm very glad you're here and I'm very glad you saved my planet." Peter's voice is earnest with sincerity and it makes something in Beck _crumble._

Beck turns around with a soft smile and Peter's hand drops from his shoulder. "Oh, Peter, it's not not much to say." And now Beck places a firm hand on Peter's shoulder, and the boy's face lights up with a smile. "I'm very glad I'm here too." He's said this before. Peter smiles as if he's never heard these words before. 

"Now come on, I want to show you something." Beck says with a confiding smirk, grabbing the kid's hand and leading him up the creaking steps, careful to pull him aside on a step that has a nasty hole under all that marble.

"So, in your world, this place is no longer there?" Peter asks in a careful, almost detached tone, as they near the last step. He lets himself be pulled so easily, lets himself be led, and Beck is sure it's probably the alcohol that makes him have his guard down but it's still fascinating to watch.

"That's right," Beck says, turning to give him a quick look, "I was hoping to get some kind of closure but I didn't want to do it alone." He eyes Peter apologetically, small smile stretching his lips.

A huge, bright grin slowly spreads over Peter's flushed face and his eyes light up, obviously pleased to be here with Beck. His hands clench and unclench with ill-contained excitement.

Beck just smiles, _God, you're really just a kid,_ and looks down the corridor.

Peter composes himself with a self-reproachful shake of his head. "Sorry, I just-" He waves a hand around, "I just like that I can do this for you. With you. Sorry."

"I want to help you too, Peter." Beck says. They're standing on opposite sides, Peter with arms crossed, leaning against a door that reads _'30' ._ Beck slowly, carefully, takes a step forward. "I can help you make a decision. You want me to do that?" His voice sounds odd to his ears, too serious, too grave, so unlike Mysterio.

"I-I'm not sure I understand," Peter squeaks out, even as Beck can observe the bulge under all those heavy layers of the suit. "If you mean-"

"I just know you'd like to go back to your friends, to that girl. What was her name? MJ?" Beck says, all helpfulness and gentleness. He watches Peter's throat muscles convulse upon the mention of the girl. It's fascinating. "I can do that."

Peter looks into his eyes, appearing to be frantically searching for something in them. Quentin can give him whatever it is that he wants. 

"Yes, please." Peter says, and it sounds like the words are pulled out of him, the way he hurries to say them. "I want you to help."

Beck narrows his eyes in satisfaction, _right how I want you_ , before taking another step forward and right into Peter's personal space. Their knees touch for a moment.

Peter gulps, his breath light and shaky. He squirms around, wincing as he subtly tries to adjust his crotch. He radiates so much heat and it makes Beck hard to think of how uncomfortable Peter must be under that suit. He wants to tear it off him.

"I want to kiss you, Peter." He says in a perfectly clear voice, leaning over so they're chest-to-chest, palms spread out on the wall on either side of Peter's head. He breathes against the shell of Peter's ear, hears the boy's breath hitch abruptly.

"Can I kiss you?" He asks sweetly, his lashes brushing softly against the corner of Peter's eye. "Peter?" He presses.

Peter doesn't respond in the stammering, blushing way Beck had expected. Instead, he plants his hands on either side of Beck's face, fingers spread, and kisses him, a tight-lipped nothing of a kiss. Beck holds him firmly by the waist, rubbing encouraging circles with his thumbs.

Peter opens his mouth slightly, and promptly closes it over Beck's bottom lip. The way his fingernails dig into Beck's skin is starting to sting, but Beck relishes the feeling. He holds back a moan as Peter angles his head just a little and tightens his hold on Peter's waist instead.

Beck snaps open an eye to see an intense look of concentration on Peter's face, brow furrowed, as if he's trying to figure out whether he likes this or how he wants to do it. Beck gives him time.

Eventually Peter grows bolder, angling his head with purpose, and digs his nose into Beck's face, twisting it in a way that Beck is sure must hurt.

"God," Peter exhales, panting, and he sounds almost angry. "Mr. Beck, I need-"

" _Shh_ ," Beck whispers, and kisses him quiet. "I got you-"

Peter doesn't want to hear it. He loops his hands around Beck's neck and pulls him impossibly closer, and this time Beck can't help the surprised noise he makes.

Peter hoists a leg around his waist and struggles to jump a little, but the way he is sandwiched between Beck's body and the wall hardly allows him to move. Beck understands. he backs away a little and allows Peter to jump and hook both his legs around him. Peter makes a pleased sound and allows himself to be slammed back against the wall again.

Beck finally gets to taste him; he swipes his tongue all over Peter's soft, whiskey-flavored mouth, coaxes obscene noises from the boy's throat. He feels the spots Peter's bitten into. The weight of Peter's tongue on his is heavenly.

It almost makes him feel sorry for what he's going to do.

The corridor is dark now but Peter has put a blind eye to everything except Beck. Beck feels Peter's hand frantically trying to undo his own pants, and Beck solves the problem for the both of them and just yanks them down.

Beck stops kissing Peter's mouth to press frantic kisses at his cheeks, his jaw. Peter lets out a cry and Beck smiles, nipping into the skin of his jaw, and using his hand to stretch out Peter's neck. He likes it this way more. He likes to be able to hear Peter.

He wraps a hand around Peter's dick, insistent and growing against Beck's thigh. He strokes him slowly, tracing every vein, every line. Peter's eyes are screwed shut and his face is turned to the side, weakly thrusting into Beck's hand.

Beck knows that right now there is nothing he can say that Peter won't listen to. The thought makes his wrist tremble a little, and Peter moans softly.

He decides to start easy.

"Please," Peter whimpers and looks down at Beck's skillful hand, sees the way his dick is shiny at the tip. A moment later his eyes go wide and his thrusts grow erratic, almost stopping.

"You don't have to do this, man." Ned's voice- _Ned, was it?_ \- says with soft reproach, as his form comes into view. Beck makes a face, momentarily distracted from the slick sounds of skin on skin, because _really?_ He doesn't know whether Will overdid it or if this kid really is as pathetic-sounding as this. He's sure he didn't sound this way at the ferris wheel. "What, Iron Man dies and you're suddenly mature enough to take over him or something? This doesn't change anything." Ned goes wide-eyed for emphasis. Big fat bastard, he can't even imagine these words coming out of the _real_ kid's mouth. "If anything, it just means you have less help now. Think of that." He shrugs.

"Ned," Peter chokes out, his hand reaching out to touch his friend but Ned just shakes his head sorrowfully and walks away, murmuring incoherently. "Wait," He says in a low, cracked voice.

"Mr. Beck," His eyes are bloodshot, though Beck doesn't know if it's from the alcohol or crying. He didn't have much time to cry, did he? His dick is softening in Beck's grip and Beck gives two rough twists to bring all the blood rushing down again.

" _Shh,_ " Beck soothes, and kisses the corner of Peter's mouth. "Just let it happen."

Spider-Man would never let this happen. But Peter Parker is just _weak_.

Peter nods blankly, detached, as if he's no longer there. Beck can bring him back. He drops to his knees, immediately replacing his hands with his mouth.

He swallows him completely, taking a moment to adjust to the taste of him. He pulls off gently to give him an appreciative look and a rough stroke of his hand before taking him in again. Beck meets his eye as he swallows, traces a pulsing vein on the underside of his cock with his tongues and Peter's head drops forward, overwhelmed.

Peter's hands drop to his hair and hold him in place, eyes staring at him in an almost hungry way.

"What are you doing, Peter?" An unsure, small voice pipes up. Beck observes the slim girl out of the corner of his eye as he mouths at Peter's balls, suckling one gently. Peter's hands tighten their grip. "Saying you're protecting us, protecting me," Her voice breaks as she points at herself. "But really, you're just-" She gestures at them. "Come back to me. Come back to me, Peter. Stop this and just-"

She fades away as Peter cries out for her to stay.

"I can't, Mr. Beck." He says, shaking his head furiously, sweat dripping off of him in buckets. "I have to go back to-"

_Not yet. Soon, I promise._

Beck tightens his mouth around him, squeezes out more bitterness from the head, and Peter cries out and closes his eyes, illusion MJ forgotten as he thrusts his hips forward. Peter runs his hands through his own sweaty hair, mouth open to pour out a string of pleadings and curses. It is the hottest thing Beck has ever seen.

_Almost there._

"I gotta say, not your brightest move, kiddo." And even Beck turns to look because it's _Tony,_ in all his glory. Beck snaps out of it and turns back to Peter. "You can't keep getting into all this trouble anymore. You get in trouble, I'm not there to save you anymore, you know that." Tony's voice is not concerned or worried, contrary to the message he's trying to convey.

But it does the trick. That is all Tony gets to say before Peter's coming hot and heavy, emptying himself down Beck's throat, his breath stuttering. Beck holds him in place, not allowing Peter to pull off. He waits until Peter's thrusts still completely before pulling off with a wet, squelching _pop!_ He smiles up at Peter, lets his cheek be caressed by Peter's hand.

Peter looks terrible, skin pale and sticky with cold sweat. His eyes are bloodshot, absently staring at Beck. Beck thinks he has never looked so beautiful.

Beck nips teasingly on his finger. "So, any thoughts?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I have thoughts."

...

As Beck walks back to the bar, after dropping the kid off at his hotel, he feels relieved. The kid won't remember anything tomorrow, someone can see to that.

He holds the glasses in his hand and hurries his pace, eager to let his colleagues know the exciting news.


End file.
